


Fireplace Fellatio

by elliemoran



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blow Jobs, M/M, Master/Servant, Nobility, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, or not much of one anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliemoran/pseuds/elliemoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is waiting for Lord Rivaille to come home. He's also been waiting for him to make a move, but he might just take things into his own hands. Or something like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireplace Fellatio

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a smutty Ereri homage to all those old bodice rippers I used to read, and that's basically all it is. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also most of my historical knowledge comes from reading things like that, so I apologize in advance if I made any glaring errors.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it :)

The sounds of hooves and wooden wheels clattering across the cobblestone street had Eren lifting his head from the arm of the sofa, though it wasn’t until he heard the carriage come to a stop outside the townhouse that he untucked his legs and jumped to his feet.

Racing across the hall, he wrestled the heavy door open and was waiting impatiently long before the occupant of the carriage emerged into the dark night.  

The Earl of Stohess, Lord Rivaille, stepped to the ground.  He paused, his eyes taking in the figure hovering in the doorway. Eren thought he saw the broad chest heave in a sigh.

Dismissing his coachman, the Earl started up the front path as the carriage rumbled away. He walked easily, the slim cane he always carried swinging freely at his side, unused. His footsteps were straight and even, with only the slightest limp and no obvious sign of any unsteadiness.

As he stepped in through the doorway, he nodded at the butler and footman hovering at the back of the hall. The men slipped away wordlessly as Eren shut the door and turned to help ease his wool greatcoat off from his shoulders. The tightly run household was far too used to Eren’s ways to be upset by him taking over their assigned duties, but they’d always stand ready to carry them out.

Eren was trying to surreptitiously sniff at Rivaille’s great coat as he placed it on the stand beside the door, so wasn’t prepared for the finger flick between his eyes as he turned back around.

“It’s late, brat. I seem to recall telling you not to wait up.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Eren rubbed at his forehead. It was mostly true – he could sleep alone these days, he just refused to.

It was an old argument anyway, and both of them knew Eren had long since won the battle - Rivaille had conceded defeat the day he had had that incongruous chaise longue Eren had just been draped over placed in the entry hall.

Still, Rivaille always told him not to wait up, and Eren always did.

He followed Rivaille’s measured steps into the study, watching as he stripped off his coat and draped it neatly over the back of the couch beside his walking stick, before unbuttoning his waistcoat and dropping gracefully onto the curved chair in front of the fire.  Eren inched towards the sofa.

“Pour me a scotch, would you?” The Earl half closed his eyes as he stretched out his bad leg.

“Hmm.” Walking very slowly in the direction of the bar, Eren took the opportunity to lean in and smell the discarded coat.

“That’s an interesting new habit.” Rivaille’s voice was soft, and Eren froze, flushing as he realized he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought.

He pushed the embarrassment back and angled his chin up, meeting the amused gaze squarely. “I’m just surprised you don’t reek of booze, for once.”

The corner of Rivaille’s lip twitched as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Yes. A particularly annoying brat always seems to get upset when I come home drunk.” He sighed, relaxing into the chair. “Be very grateful. Spending an evening with Hange and Erwin taking turns to ask me why I wasn’t drinking was very nearly enough to convince me to go ahead and get soused.”

Eren couldn’t keep the bounce from his step as he turned away and carried on towards the bar. “That’s not my fault. I didn’t say anything about not drinking at all.”

Shifting in the seat, Rivaille stretched out. “There’s no point in drinking the swill Erwin stocks unless it’s to get piss-faced drunk.” 

Letting the last remnant of tension ease from his shoulders, Eren splashed a small dram into the glass. When they’d first met, Rivaille had spent most of his waking hours drinking himself unconscious as rapidly as he possibly could – he’d been so far gone the night he rescued Eren that he hadn’t had the slightest clue who the younger man was when he found him sleeping at the foot of his bed the next morning.

Gradually, his sober patches had grown from an hour or two some afternoons, to a day, to a week, sometimes more. He rarely drank himself completely insensible anymore.

But every now and then Rivaille would be reminded of his old ghosts, and he’d go plummeting back down again. After a few days of shutting himself away, he’d leave Eren behind and go off for a while - only he and the groomsmen knew where. He’d come back stinking of bad ale and stale perfume, fit only to be scrubbed clean, poured into bed, and left until he sobered up.

So tonight, when he’d left, that horribly flat look in his eyes, Eren hadn’t expected to see him till dawn, at the very earliest.

And yet it was only just past midnight, he’d gone to Lord Erwin’s instead of… wherever. And he hadn’t gotten drunk.

Eren very much wanted to cheer. And he would, later. For now, as he walked back towards the circle of light around the fireplace, he could see the shadows under Rivaille’s eyes had deepened – the nights he didn’t sleep always seemed to blend into his skin - and he was favoring his left leg.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“In a little while.” Rivaille’s hand left off from where he was absently kneading at his thigh to take the scotch from Eren. “Go on up, I’ll be there soon.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren set his hands on his hips as he huffed out a breath. “I don’t believe you. You’re planning on spending another night down here, aren’t you?”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, brat.” But Eren caught a flash of Rivaille’s lips curving up behind the glass he’d raised to his mouth. He grinned back, unrepentant and relieved.

“It’s late enough already, come to bed.”

“Fine, fine.” He arched a brow. “After this glass.”

It was the haughty crook of Rivaille's brow, even as that faint smile still lingered on his mouth, that made Eren lose his sense. There was absolutely no thought in his head as he leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around Rivaille’s wrist, lifting the hand holding the glass. Their eyes locked as he took a mouthful of the scotch. The liquid burning his tongue, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Rivaille’s.

Time seemed to slow down. Rivaille’s mouth opened beneath his, and Eren felt him swallow the scotch as it passed between them. An arm wrapped up around his neck when he would have pulled away, and then Rivaille’s tongue was in his mouth, searching out every last drop.

Finally pulling away, Eren gasped for air. Rivaille’s arm slid away and he swiped a dribble of scotch from Eren’s chin with his thumb.

Eren watched wordlessly, frozen, as the pale hand moved up, and he felt it stroking his hair back from his face.

And then Rivaille pulled away, turning back to the fire as he leaned back in his chair. “Go to bed. I’ll be up soon.” He lifted the cup to lips.

Despite the dull flush he could still see on Rivaille’s cheeks, Eren knew he was being dismissed. He should go.

He didn’t want to.

Rivaille had brought him home with him close to two years ago. Eren hadn’t slept in his own room since the first month.  Night after night when he’d barely been able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time, Rivaille would come and sleep beside him.  Eventually Rivaille had brought him into his own bed, and kept him there even after the dreams had faded.

They kissed, often. They curled up together at night and constantly brushed against each other during the day.  And once, more than a year ago, Rivaille had taken him completely. It had hurt, Eren had been too nervous, not yet sure enough of himself around the older man. So for a while after that he’d been grateful that Rivaille had stopped pushing for anything more.

But time had passed and the memory of the pain had faded. Instead he could remember the feel of Rivaille inside him, moving, the grip of his hands on his hips and the way he’d looked as he bent over Eren. The sound of his harsh breathing and the look on his face as he’d come.

Eren was done waiting. He wanted that again.

Purposefully, he stepped closer and dropped to his knees between Rivaille’s spread legs. His breath hitched in sudden nervousness, but he kept his gaze up and direct.

“What are you up to, brat?”

None of the arguments in his head were coherent enough to say aloud. In the end all Eren could do was tilt his head and ask. “Can’t I?”

Whatever thoughts went on behind that unreadable expression, Eren didn’t know, but after a long moment the Earl’s chest heaved in a sigh. He set the glass on the table beside him and sat forward, tugging gently at Eren’s chin. Bracing his hands on thickly muscled thighs, Eren lifted up to meet Rivaille’s mouth in a long kiss.

Sprawling back in the chair, Rivaille deliberately placed his hands on the curved arms beside him as he smiled softly down at Eren. “Fine, brat. Do your worst.”

Eren blinked and sank back to his heels, his eyes dropping uncertainly, not entirely sure he wasn’t simply being laughed at. Slowly, he let his hands slide up along the snug knit of Rivaille’s breeches. He half expected to be pushed away any moment, but as his fingers stroked over the slight bulge beneath the fabric and Rivaille did nothing to stop him, his hesitancy faded away.

Letting his cheek rest against one taut leg, Eren carefully measured Rivaille’s length through the breeches. The muscles under his cheek tensed as he felt the bulge swell beneath his fingertips.

Lifting his head, he edged even closer, biting at his lip as he fumbled with the buttons holding up the front flap of Rivaille’s breeches and pulled at the string of his drawers. His mouth went dry as he finally pushed the fabric aside and saw Rivaille was fully erect, his long, flushed length curved slightly back towards his belly.

He’d seen it before, of course, even felt it against him when they bathed together. This was very different. It was like someone had suddenly presented him a dish he’d always wanted and told him he could eat as much as he liked. It was a heady feeling as he reached out and stroked a finger over the tip, and then down until he could test the weight of Rivaille’s testicles in his palm. He squeezed gently, wrapping his other hand around the shaft and stroking lightly.

Rivaille hissed out a breath, and eased his hips forward.

Eren saw a hint of moisture at the tip and leaned forward to lick it away. He jerked his eyes up when he heard Rivaille laugh softly above him.

The flush had deepened, and Rivaille’s eyes were half covered, glittering in the firelight as he watched Eren.

Encouraged by the expression, Eren pressed the thick head into his mouth, keeping his gaze up, focused on Rivaille. Their eyes held as his tongue circled the ridge, and he sucked his cheeks in.

Rivaille’s eyes closed and his head fell back, his body tensing and his knuckles turning white as his hands tightened on the arms of the chair.

Taking advantage of the way Rivaille’s hips had shifted further towards him, Eren licked a long trail down and pulled Rivaille’s heavy balls into his mouth, gently tonguing them as his hand carried on slowly stroking up and down.

When he heard Rivaille groan, Eren shifted up, taking the whole length into his mouth. Hips jerking, Rivaille’s hands left the chair and slid into Eren’s hair.

Eren bobbed up and down, letting the thick head slip out past his lips and then push back in, deeper and deeper. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feel of Rivaille hitting the back of his throat, his jaw aching as he stretched it wide to keep his teeth from scraping along the shaft.

He heard Rivaille’s breathing shorten and his hands tightened in Eren’s hair, holding the younger man’s head still as his hips stuttered, pounding up into Eren’s mouth. Hissing, he arched in the chair, and Eren felt liquid heat spurt into his throat. He concentrated on breathing through his nose as he sucked and swallowed, keeping pace with the pulsing of the shaft between his lips.

When he felt Rivaille sag back into the chair, Eren pulled away.

He didn’t realize he was grinning until he swiped a hand across his mouth. He’d never seen the haughty Earl look anything like this. His eyes were closed, and his chest heaved as he sprawled bonelessly in the chair. The rigid mask he always wore had slipped away, and his face looked unbelievably young.

Eren pushed himself to his feet, his legs slightly shaky as he started towards the bar, when a hand grabbed at his hip, yanking him back to half lie across Rivaille’s lap.

“Stay still for a bit.” Rivaille’s face was far too close in this position.

“I was just getting a drink. For the, ah-“ Eren flushed as he saw the awareness in Rivaille’s eyes.

“Here.”  Rivaille lifted the glass from the side table, and raised it to Eren’s lips. He arched a brow when Eren hesitated.

Taking the glass, Eren gulped down the last of the scotch. “Will you come up to bed now?”

Rivaille laughed, his arm tightening around Eren.

“Yes. But lets stay here for a little while first.”

Eren nodded, and grinned to himself as he let himself relax into Rivaille’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come talk to me on tumblr, I'm afternoonteawithme.
> 
> Also, the beautiful title is all thanks to arukitty (also on Tumblr). All I could think of was a Midnight Welcome, which would have been such a tragically wasted opportunity.


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